


All That Stuff's A Sideshow

by vaudevilles



Category: Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-30
Updated: 2010-07-30
Packaged: 2017-10-10 20:51:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/104145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaudevilles/pseuds/vaudevilles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm dating Lance." Like anybody was going to believe something so palpably stupid anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All That Stuff's A Sideshow

Chris stamped out of the green room and down the corridor towards the parking lot. Some people had their sense of humor removed at birth. Or the sperm that fathered them had some kind of fun-bypass. It was a joke, goddammit. Everyone in the studio had understood that.

Well, maybe Lance's eyes had gotten even wider than they usually were in his "I'm-so-incredibly-earnest-and-hardworking-please-don't-talk-about-the-queer-rumors" interview face. But Larry King had totally gotten the humor of it. The Js had taken all the sting out of it anyway, damn Justin and his National Enquirer crack. And Jive would be cool with it. Eventually.

Chris slammed the door of his SUV. Fucking patronizing CNN interviewers - King was probably paid more per minute than Chris and he still asked them about who they were seeing like any newbie muckraker.

"I'm dating Lance." Like anybody was going to believe something so palpably stupid anyway.

The SUV's tires didn't squeal as Chris pulled out of the lot, they just sort of yelped a little.

******

It wasn't that Chris was still fuming two days later. He was totally zen. Completely zen. JC-like in his nirvana-aligned zen-ness, in fact. It was just that Chris' zen looked like a three year old's birthday party after a Mountain Dew accident.

He'd thought the hastily called meeting at Jive would include the entire group. There had definitely been an inference from the flunky who'd made the call that it was about promotion for the new album.

But no. There was Lance, on one side of the table and the chill coming off him made the office air conditioning redundant. Chris was sitting as far away as possible from both the freezing wind of Lance's disapproval and Jive's newest whiz kid, Madison.

It was a big table, which was possibly why Chris thought he was hearing things when the PR chick made her announcement. But then she said it again.

Chris blinked. Slowly.

"You what?" Lance's posture went from lazily menacing to bolt upright in seconds.

Madison didn't appear to have realized that Iceberg Lance was melting and the thaw could kill her. She repeated her spiel with even more perkiness.

"The test audiences show that your target market is keen to see diversity in their idols, to push the boundaries of their morality suggesters and embrace alternative lifestyles that are demonstrated by non-threatening role models." Madison paused briefly to smile kindly at them, as though they were a glitter-pen wielding test audience.

"We've run several simulations now and although we have some nervousness around your market segment's fiscal controls and the demographics show that your audience would prefer JC as part of their ultimately asexual fantasy couple, given Chris' apropos announcement on Tuesday we thought it most opportune that we start promoting your liaison forthwith."

She was continuing to burble about _Queer as Folk_ and some guy from an English boyband while Chris tried to figure out what the hell was going on. She couldn't be saying what he thought...

Oh good flaming Christ on a stick, she was.

"Have you fucking killed off your sole remaining marble with smack?" Oh the chill had definitely gone from Lance now. In fact he was practically steaming.

"Chris and I are not a couple. We are not dating, have never dated, will never date. We have not dated in the past, we will not date in the future. There is no way our fans will accept us dating, which is beside the point because there will be. No. Dating. Ever." Lance's voice was getting sharper at every word and Chris couldn't get his mouth to work because he was busy focusing on the way Lance was flexing his hands at his sides.

Then Lance took a deep breath and his eyes flickered briefly to Chris' face. "I'm gay. Ok - let's admit that."

Chris tried to figure out how to stop his brain sloshing around like over-enthusiastic custard in his head. Sure he'd known Lance was gay. Well. He'd had suspicions about the way Lance would occasionally turn up with buff male models for a couple of weeks and the way his mouth looked rumpled and messy sometimes. But it was one of those things that everyone left unsaid in order to make everyone's life easier - like 17 year old Justin's short-lived penchant for buxom bleached blonde hookers, and the way it disturbed Chris when JC would moan "no, no, no" when he was coming in his bunk in the bus. Well, everyone except Chris left those things unsaid, and sometimes even Chris didn't say anything. Or anything much.

While Chris was anchoring his brain to reality again Lance and Madison had continued to argue, Lance getting more and more angry and more and more resigned. Chris clicked back in to the discussion when he heard Lance say "Fuck it. Fuck you and fuck it." Lance had the same tone in his voice as he'd used to have when Lou would make a 'suggestion' about what he should do with his hair. Chris had really hoped he'd never hear that particular intonation again.

Lance was still managing not to make fists of his hands, but his voice had a slight shake to it as he glowered at Madison across the table. "If our fans are ok with me coming out then great, we'll do it. We'll be boycotted in every state south of the Mason Dixon line and they'll burn our bobble heads in effigy, but if that's what the focus groups want, fuck it all. I can be out and proud. Hell, Ellen and I can go shopping together."

Madison muttered "perfect" and "non-aggressive lesbians" and made a careful note in her orange folder.

Lance's lips were whiter than they'd been during his hospital stay. "But this stupid ass plan of yours has two major issues." Lance stood, control radiating from every pore. "One, Chris is straighter than a Utah highway; and two, only an uneducated, dirty-minded moron is ever going to believe we're together."

Lance turned - almost completely smoothly - on his heel and walked out of the office. He shut the door very, very calmly behind him. Chris watched to see if it would burst into flames. It didn't so he got up, walked around the table past Madison, who was still making notes, and opened the door.

"So, Madison, I imagine you'll be organizing testimonials about how fantastic I am at fellatio for the more adult end of our market." Chris couldn't do calm and threatening as well as Lance, but he could do vicious better than any of them. "So let me tell you, you fucking bottom-dwelling-slime-slurper, I know damn well when something sucks worse than an anorexic vampire. And this plan is the worst idea since your father decided to screw your mother. There's no way it'll come off."

The slam of the door behind Chris made the windows rattle.

******

But apparently Jive had followed Madison into insanity because appeals, threats and bribery had no affect whatsoever on Johnny's decision to adhere to her cracked out plan. Emails had gone out to the rest of the guys and the promo machine was already working overtime to seed what was being promoted as the "gay romance of the new millennium".

******

"Did you see the email? Can you believe what those shit-for-brains want me to do?

Chris thought Justin should be grateful that cellphone technology was advanced enough to cope with a counter tenor at the top of his vocal range. Right now it was probably putting Justin's eardrums at risk. But really, there were more important things at stake.

"Oh. I'm sorry, what our target demographic would prefer to see Lance and JC do, but because of my apropos - and really let's talk about pretentious use of French later ok - my apropos remark in that fucking CNN interview, which means that they want Lance and me to reveal our reviled secret love to the world, so we can all get lynched the next time we play Alabama and never sell another record ever again."

"It's total bullshit Chris..."

"You're goddamn right it's bullshit. I mean who's going to believe it anyway? I spent that entire interview trying not to bawl my fucking eyes out about Dani. Our fans aren't stupid enough to believe one throwaway idiot gag over..."

Chris faltered slightly in his rant and Justin's sympathetic silence was briefly replaced by his cynical snort. Chris sat back in the driver's seat of his SUV and put his head in his hand.

"Oh God. They're 12 years old. They'll believe anything J-14 tells them is romantic. Oh. Fuck. Fuck me dead with boots on. J-14 is going to tell our fans that our forbidden passion is romantic." Chris' head thumped to rest on the cool leather of the steering wheel.

"They'll print pictures that make it look like we're desperate for each other. Teenies will make signs with 'Chris hearts Lance' on them. Glittery signs that homophobes will use to hit us. Oh God. I'm going to be battered to death and pink glitter will lead them to the killers."

"Chris. Chris! Are you banging your head against the wheel? You really need to stop that before you get those little indents on your forehead again." Justin was obviously trying to follow the self-help books' tips on empathy but he needed to work a little harder.

"I mean, where the hell did this Madison chick get this idea anyway?" Chris stopped banging his head and started kicking the door instead. "She obviously doesn't know a thing about our fans. How does she think they're going to grow up and marry me if I'm in love with Lance?"

There was a barely noticeable intake of breath at the other end of the phone.

"Justin, so help me God, if you so much as even think about the fact that six times as many girls want to marry you as want to marry me and Lance put together I will post the picture of you asleep on that bed in Hamburg on the internet."

"You fucker." Justin's outrage was loud enough that Chris swapped ears. "You promised you'd destroyed that photo. I'm going to go nuclear on your ass the next time I see you."

"Well with this story about me and Lance shacking up for nights of hot butt-pounding there's not gonna be much ass left for your nukes, Curly. Besides you can only see the lipstick on your dick if you examine that photo really, really closely."

The conversation kind of disintegrated from there, but Chris was pretty satisfied that Justin would back in him ensuring the group didn't explode through management-inflicted man-loving. Even if it was unfortunate, as Justin pointed out, that Chris didn't have any photos of himself with lipstick on his dick to leak to the press to preempt the queer rumors.

"Of course, Jive could just tell them that Lance does drag, and that you were investigating the color for FuMan" Justin wasn't quite tittering, but it was a close thing.

Justin somehow got cut off after that. Chris didn't bother calling him back.

*

Chris waited till he'd driven home to call JC, which was good because the conversation included phrases like "you shouldn't belittle the ability of our fans to be totally cool with alternative lifestyle choices, cat," and "it's totally wrong to lie about who you love dude, but we do it in interviews all the time already. What's so different?"

Talking to him left Chris with the feeling that JC didn't have the kind of indignation Chris considered warranted at the thought of his band-mates' untimely death by pink sparkly signs. Chris was pretty sure that in JC's world it was fine to get freaky with alien probes of no particular gender as long as you were having a good time, and not oppressing the probe in question. It showed a beautiful hard-kept naivete that Chris usually admired, but right now it made him consider getting his virgin ass thrown in jail for homicide in preference to accepting Jive's insane plan and the resulting public damage to the sanctity of said ass.

*

Joey spent the entire six minutes that he was on the phone with Chris cussing him out for upsetting Lance. "It's not bad enough that muckraking hacks have to keep writing these blind items about Lance picking up guys, but then you have to make the fucking rumors worse by ragging on him in front of millions of people about being a fag. And now Jive is going to make him come out for real and he'll never get a real boyfriend cause he'll be dragging your straight fat ass around."

Chris was figuring all the concentration on his ass was going to get old pretty damn quick. Luckily Joey hung up on him before getting around to insulting Chris' fashion sense, so Chris was pretty sure Joey was just venting and wasn't really as mad as Lance probably wanted him to be.

*

Chris decided the better part of valor was to ignore that there was one member of *nsync he hadn't talked to. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk to Lance. In fact there was a message on his cellphone, which Chris had dropped down the back of the sofa by mistake when he saw Lance's caller ID, which he was intending to pick up any month now. Phone eating sofas could be dangerous if not approached correctly.

******

Just four days after the Larry King fiasco, Chris was looking at a schedule that re-engineered his public appearances for the next six weeks. He and Lance were going to open a Hard Rock Cafe in the Castro District, and after the Rock in Rio concert they were supposed to be spotted dancing with drag queens. Then they were to give out prizes at the American Men's Diving Championships, before taking their dogs to a pet psychic together. The jewel in the flaming crown was a joint appearance on Rosie.

Chris was heading towards grouchy resignation about pretending to be Lance's boyfriend. His lawyer said it wasn't illegal. His financial adviser couldn't figure out how it could get Jive in trouble with the IRS, and the marketing guy at FuMan had no thoughts on how to spin it in the opposite direction.

So he'd called in the big gun. His mom had suggested he treat it as a giant practical joke on the American public, that would enable him to rile up bigots. His mom knew him far too well and could probably get him to happily eat brussels sprouts if she wanted. Chris was very glad she mostly used her power for good.

Of course his mom didn't know about Chris' small experimentation with other guys. Well. Other guy. Chris was pretty sure that a couple of drunken fumbles with a friend in college didn't put him in the same league as Elton John, but he did like to think of himself as theoretically bisexual. It made his politics, and listening to the Indigo Girls, far more defensible. Or it would have if he'd actually decided to tell anybody about it.

None of it had convinced Chris to talk to Lance though. Chris certainly wasn't accepting the generally held belief that none of this would have happened if he'd been able to pass up a snarky quip whenever one popped into his head.. This was totally not his fault. At all. It was just that he was fond of his balls and was nervous of Lance's ability to wither things with the mere lift of an eyebrow.

And he hadn't told Dani.

It wasn't that Chris didn't talk to Dani; he discussed FuMan with her most days. It was almost getting to the point where he didn't need to have a really sharp pencil handy to jab himself in the arm every time he wanted to say, "We could make this work.." Or "I miss you being my girlfriend." Or worst of all, "Please come back?"

Chris didn't beg. He certainly didn't read 'Beyond Co-dependency' when it was oh so tactfully left on his bed by someone who may as well have renamed himself Mr Spears. And it really was getting easier to be single and to think of her as a friend. Really. He just didn't want to tell her... stuff.

She'd probably think it was funny anyway.

******

The first junk news items were appearing in the tabloids, but no journalists had managed to get hold of Chris for a comment yet. Which was good because he wasn't quite sure what he was going to say when someone asked him whether the gossip about 'the oldest boybander finding something greener on the same side of the fence' had anything to do with him. And really... a) Kevin Richardson was nearly a whole month older than him, and b) what did that even mean?

******

Two days before the group was to fly to Brazil, Chris was realizing that not speaking to Lance before their first outing may have been a mistake. The limo picked Chris up from the airport in San Francisco, Lance sprawled predatorily over the forward facing seat. The smile Lance gave him when he said "Hey Bass," would have frozen butter just wafted in the vicinity of Lance's mouth.

Fuck. He was fucking doomed.

"You having trouble picking up your phone, Chris?" Lance's voice sounded pleasant enough. "I guess you need to play an awful lot of Deus Ex to figure out the best strategy for preventing Jive from sending the band into a fucking death spiral. I'm sure they'll be devastated by the full turning somersault kick to the groin you've learned over the last week instead of, oh, I don't know. Maybe instead of working with me to stop them fucking us over royally?"

OK. Maybe only pleasant in the way that walking across broken glass and then digging splinters out of your feet was pleasant.

"Fuck off Lansten."

Oh yeah, that was going to help placate things. Chris backed up a little, slightly worried about losing a finger or two to Lance's sharklike expression. "I still think this is a crazy plan, but it's happening and we didn't go through all that shit getting rid of Lou not to take control in any way we can."

"Yeah, well." Lance's grin was slipping. "Excuse me if this whole coming out thing is difficult for me. But in the last couple of days I've had to tell my mama and my grandma that I'm gay."

Lance glared at Chris across the limo. "And thank you for that experience by the way - I was leaving that for a day when I felt like ripping their hearts apart. Plus I've had to explain to my dad that my much older idiot bandmate hasn't actually been corrupting my virginal ass. And, even though there's about to be a shit storm of publicity that says we're fucking like bunnies, that I've never even kissed you."

Lance took a slightly shaky breath. "And nor do I want to."

"Oh holy crap on a toothbrush Bass, I'm sorry." Chris scooted across the limo and hugged Lance guiltily.

Lance fought to get away for a few seconds then gave in and tucked his head into Chris' shoulder, burrowing into the comfort.

Chris dropped his voice to whisper into Lance's ear. "I totally didn't want this to happen. You know what I'm like when interviewers piss me off, and I was so fucked up with all the Dani shit."

Chris turned so he could see Lance's eyes, and thanked his lucky stars the gaze he met was dry and slightly more forgiving. "I swear, I never, ever thought that Jive would take leave of their collective senses and get us into this cluster fuck."

Lance sighed. "Yeah well, I always thought that the pretty white jacket with the very long arms would come out of the closet at the same time I did. Guess we were both wrong."

Chris met Lance's tentative grin with an apologetic smile. "I know I can't hate this as much as you do dude. But I promise you I'll do absolutely everything I can to make Madison suffer more than the two of us combined."

"Yeah?" Lance hooked his chin further into Chris' shoulder.

Bev was so getting a big box of chocolates by courier. "Yeah, because you know they want to make us gay but ultra straight acting right? They want us to be like unthreatening, dickless best friends so that rebellious kiddies can hero worship us? Well, what if we went all out on the homo thing and camped it up?" Chris looked down at Lance and took a calculated risk. "Well, what if I camped it up and you just kept on being you?"

Lance punched him in the solar plexus, but it wasn't hard enough to make him breathless and Lance was still curled up against him so Chris figured they were pretty much sweet.

"I figure if we go along with this relationship thing and really go for it, if we out-gay Liberace and start using this as a way to actually say some stuff, to maybe do some good? Help some kids, be role models in a more real way than just being stickers on teenies' school books. I mean, I don't want to be the mature one here..."

"Good because the earth's still spinning," muttered Lance.

Chris thought his lack of response to that sally was proof that maturity was well within his reach and, besides, watching Lance's grin recover slightly was worth ignoring the bait.

"But Lance seriously, think about it. If the Jive asshats are determined to out us, doesn't that give you a huge opportunity to actually be who you are? We're all set for life financially already, so even if this crashes and burns we'll still be able to make music and do whatever we want to do. Plus we get to fuck with management while we're doing it."

Chris looked hopefully at Lance who'd wriggled out of the hug part way through the last part of Chris' spiel. Lance had his well-fed-piranha face back on.

"Oh fuck you Chris." Lance's teeth were glinting in the glimmer of passing streetlights and his eyes looked positively dangerous, but it was the look of a man about to take on the world, not his band-mate. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but let's go for it. Let's fuck with Jive and be boy-scouts at the same time."

"Woah, Bass, I'm not signing up for corrupting boy-scouts. I'm supposed to be dating you, not Michael Jackson."

The resulting fracas left Chris with bruises all down his left arm and Lance's hair was more rumpled than styled by the time they pulled up to the Hard Rock Cafe. But they were standing close enough to make Madison beam at them as they cut the ribbon opening the restaurant.

******

FLASH: Lance, with his hand low down at the small of Chris' back as they exit a limo together.

_What's the dirty little secret between the high and the low of this smash hit group? - NATIONAL ENQUIRER P.29_

FLASH: Chris dragging Lance by the hand through a crowd of paparazzi as they leave a club surrounded by much taller drag queens in skimpy sparkles.

_It's not exactly a no strings affair when you're two of the five most famous singers in the country. - NATIONAL ENQUIRER P.16_

FLASH: The group in a huddle on the red carpet, Justin, Joey and JC looking at the camera, Chris and Lance slightly off to the side with the backs of their hands touching.

_How sad are the teenies going to be when they hear not just one but two of their favorites are not just off the market but on each other's menu? - NATIONAL ENQUIRER P.12_

FLASH: Chris, looking up sideways under his lashes at a beaming Lance who is looking down at Chris, his arm around Chris' shoulders.

_Which boy band isn't so much in sync as in bed with each other? - NATIONAL ENQUIRER P.9_

FLASH: Chris lying on the grass in a park with his head on Lance's stomach and his hand on Lance's thigh as their dogs romp in the park.

_What group could be saying bye bye bye to their careers as two of the boys can't keep their hands off each other? - NATIONAL ENQUIRER P.5_

******

Madison and her team had been spinning the rumor mill fast enough that Chris could almost blame his dizziness on a change in the gravitational field.

Of course the three ounces of tequila he'd slammed back probably weren't helping his balance, but it was totally better than doing this press conference completely sober.

Joey had done the whole St Bernard in a snowstorm thing, pouring them both shots after Lance blurted "I can't do this Joe, I'm going to totally freeze. I'll just open and close my mouth several times like one of those sideshow clowns and then vomit."

Chris was pretty sure vomiting wasn't going to be a problem for him. Hysterical laughter? Possibly. Inappropriate remarks? Almost certainly. Not being able to follow through on his and Lance's plan to replace the manly shoulder slapping hug Madison had choreographed as the end of the media junket with a spit-swapping kiss? Yeah.

But this was it. This was the opportunity to fuck with Jive's crap-for-brains plan. And they got to do it at a live press conference being broadcast on Fox News and E!

It'd taken a few weeks for the other guys to come on board with the way Chris and Lance were plotting to screw around with the 'outing'.

Well, JC'd been with them as soon as Lance had explained the role modelling and how it meant they could make their songs a little less 'ooh girl, baby baby' and more 'take me like an animal on safari through our intergalactic love'. Joey held out until he was sure Lance was really okay and Chris bought him a flagon of top shelf 20 year old bourbon. Justin was more difficult as Chris'd had to find a way of selling their plan as professional. Chris had struggled for six days before finally convincing Justin that this was the best way for them all to get acting experience. Of course, he'd also had to do a lot of talking about how this completely enabled Justin and Britney to come across as both virginal by comparison _and_ cool for being so accepting.

But now all five of them were filing into a room papered with *nsync merchandise. They were all used to the barrage of flashes and the thrust of microphones but Chris almost winced like a novice at the sheer number of cameras and booms in the room.

Madison had decided that as the 'elder statesman' of the group Chris should start the ball rolling with a carefully prepared statement full of 'slowly developing', 'best friends first', 'normal', and 'restraint'. Chris had smiled perfunctorily at her and taken the piece of paper, which was currently residing in seventeen pieces at the bottom of Busta's litter tray.

He and Lance had spent far too many mornings bickering over the wording of what they were actually going to say. Chris wanted to make it political without being boring and Lance wanted it to be precisely calculated to infuriate Jive without sending his family into orbit. In the end they agreed to write their own bits - it was that or end up with something that required more explanation than _Space Cowboy_.

Lance was sitting next to him at the center of the table, his thigh pressed against Chris' to stop the jiggling. Though how Lance was supposed to stop Chris jiggling when he himself was practically vibrating with tension Chris wasn't sure. Joey was on Lance's right trying to hold Lance's nerves together by the sheer force of sympathetic willpower. Justin was so far into game face that he'd come out the other side and looked almost terrified on Chris' left and JC was just holding himself back from bouncing with excitement on Justin's other side.

Chris took a deep breath and the buzzing conversation diminished a little.

"Hi." His voice didn't waver at all and Chris blessed Robin's training for what felt like the millionth time. "We've called this press conference to put to rest a bunch of vicious gossip that some not so respectable media sources have been spreading around. We hope that by talking openly about what's happening we'll be able to answer these allegations honestly and put a halt to the rumor mill."

"First up I'd like to say that I haven't been lying all these years. I do indeed wear boxer briefs." There was a ripple of laughter around the room, including one on his right that helped the tequila boost his bravery quotient.

"However, I'd also like to say that Lance can vouch for the truth of my uh... fondness for boxer briefs because he takes them off me regularly before we have sex."

The shocked intake of breath from every journalist in the room was loud enough to drown out Madison's hastily smothered coughing fit unless you were listening for it. Chris grinned. He'd spent so long being the crazy one that nobody was quite sure whether to take him seriously or not and using that to make the Jive executives' faces go contrasting shades of purple was an absolute joy.

Several of the journalists were beginning to shout questions, but they fell silent as Lance ignored them, leaning forward slightly to speak calmly and with his usual smooth professionalism.

"Right now we're asking that you let us speak. We won't be answering questions today, but we do want to give you as much information as we can." Chris knew that Lance's knuckles were white under the long table, but there was no sign of it as he spoke and the bustle in the room died to a hush.

"I'm gay," said Lance, and Chris could see Joey almost bursting with pride at the way Lance's voice remained completely steady in the dead silent room.

"That's something I've been wanting to say since I came out to myself about a year ago, but the pressures of this business made staying in the closet the easy option. Now I have a reason to come out, and I'm ready to show the world that it's ok to be who you are and to be proud of yourself, whatever you do in bed. I hope that the fact that I'm being honest about being gay will help other young people coming to terms with who they love. And with my relationship with Chris changing, it's totally the right time to be open with people about my sexuality."

It was damn lucky Chris was supposed to be the proud boyfriend, because not grinning smugly at Lance would have been impossible. Sneaky bastard was managing to tell the truth as well as stir shit Their relationship was changing all right; Lance was spending even more time than usual wanting to kill him.

Lance was still speaking, firmly and confidently, completely in the groove of what he was saying. "It took me a long time to come to terms with what I wanted from a lover. I've had girlfriends and tried being straight. It wasn't something that ever felt right. Kind of like wearing your shoes on the wrong feet."

Oh, Lance had totally cheated and asked JC for help. That was a Chasez metaphor if Chris had ever heard one.

"I came out to my family a few weeks ago and it was hard, but they're wonderful, Christian people and they believe in the love and acceptance that Jesus taught." Lance may not have had tears in his eyes, but Joey sure did and Chris was pretty sure that if he turned around he would see JC sniffing and Justin beaming.

"I hope that our fans and the public show that kind of generosity and strength of spirit towards me and Chris. I'm just being who I am, who God made me and I look forward to sharing that with people in a true way." Lance let his shoulders relax slightly as he sat back in his seat and gestured for Chris to talk.

"Before I really start on the whole coming out speech thing I want to just say that if it wasn't for gossip magazines and tabloids it's possible that both Lance and I would have stayed in the closet," Chris stared down the barrel of the main camera. "I hate why we are coming out, but I am really glad that Lance will never have to be any one's dirty little secret ever again and that he's never going to have to be _my_ smutty skeleton in the closet."

"What Lance and I have is really new and I'm looking forward to where we go with it. Personally I'm hoping he'll take me to Paris for our next date." And there was the low grade chuckle from the room Chris'd been hoping for. He had the media onside and if charm was going to work on them, even with this topic, then they'd be fine.

"Seriously though, I've never dated a man before but I've been bisexual since college. So I know how many young people feel uncomfortable about coming out, because I've been there."

Out of the corner of his eye Chris could see Justin looking at him. Justin knew when Chris was using his real honest voice, not the fake honest voice he used for practical jokes and women's television interviewers. All the guys did. It was only because Chris had seen Justin keep his expression calm and polite while a lawyer was explaining exactly how much money Lou had stolen that he knew quite how shocked Justin was to hear him say that. He was pretty sure the others were similarly taken aback.

"So if my letting people know that I'm queerer than a hat-stand in a toupee shop helps even one teenager feel better about themselves, then that's better than selling a million records, even if it's not as profitable."

Chris took a deep breath; thank Christ that was the public service section over with.

He grinned. "Plus this way I get to kiss a cute boy in public - I mean there can't be many people who aren't jealous of me getting to be with one of the world's most eligible bachelors, especially when he's nice looking, hard working and rich. My mother's got such a huge smile right now she could be mistaken for a crocodile." "In fact," Chris got to his feet. "I think I want to give her a demonstration right now because the man's just that hot."

Lance was looking up at him a matching evil glint in his eyes and it was surprisingly easy for Chris to tug him to his feet and draw him in, the choreography innate even though they'd never practiced this. They looked at each other for a slow second before Lance's arm went solidly around Chris' waist and any thought of an A frame hug went out the window. Another beat and Chris almost giggled at the silence in the room.

And then Lance kissed him.

It wasn't like kissing Dani. For a start there was no tongue at all and even though Lance was freshly shaved his skin was definitely not as smooth. Chris had vague memories of stubble burn from college but it wasn't happening here. Lance's lips were pretty soft as well and he wasn't so tall that Chris felt like he should have gotten bigger shoes. It was a nice friendly kiss and if they hadn't been surrounded by what felt like half the world's available cameras it might even have been fun. Not sexy at all. But fun.

The number of flash bulbs going off would have half killed an epileptic. And the level of noise as journalists shouted questions rivalled the first scream at Madison Square Gardens for sheer raucousness. Chris grinned against Lance's lips as he listened for Madison trying to calm the hubbub down a bit so they could continue.

"Nice speech," Lance muttered against his lips as they pulled back from one another.

Chris smirked at him and raised his voice to overcome the yelling of the journalists, which was finally beginning to quieten. "Thanks, honey. So, now you've had a demonstration of quite how friendly Bass and I are, I'm going to pass over to the other guys."

The rest of the press conference went smoothly, with the other guys talking about how supportive they were of Lance and Chris (Joey); how in love with their girlfriends they were while being understanding of alternative sexualities (Justin); and how this would make the music stronger as they went back into the studio to record the new album (JC). As they filed out of the room leaving Madison and her team to pacify the ravening hoards, Chris found it hard to believe that it was only twenty-six minutes since he'd been officially heterosexual.

Chris knew it was only the five of them in the green room, but the uproar was like being back on tour.

"Did you see their faces when..."

"Jesus, I was sure I.."

"Chris you fucker, why didn't..."

"That's got Jive sitting..."

"You cats blew those shit..."

"...was going to hurl."

"...you tell us you were bi?"

"...you guys were sucking face?"

"...on something big and hard."

"...eaters totally out of the water."

Chris stopped trying to make his voice heard over the top of the other four. Fucking trained voices made it impossible. Instead he whooped as loudly as he could and jumped on Lance's back, making him stagger and trip. Lance grasped Justin's arm as he fell and the three of them ended up in a heap on the floor with Chris on top for two seconds, before Joey emitted a warrior like yodel and flattened him, quickly followed by another weight as JC joined the crush.

Lance's elbow was in Chris' stomach, Justin's sneaker was wriggling in his face, Joey's belt buckle was pressing into his left arm and JC's giggle was practically deafening him. So far being out was cool.

******

It was slightly less cool that evening, round at Justin's place for pizza in front of his huge new plasma screen. Chris was attempting to watch the game while ignoring a barrage of questions from Justin ranging from how many times he'd had sex with guys to how men hooked up. It'd been a pretty one sided interrogation so far and Chris was making bets with himself that Justin wouldn't stop for breath before the Steelers scored again.

"It doesn't always have to be in bathrooms right?" Justin looked worried. "I mean, that's totally unhygienic and gross, especially if people haven't like, washed their dicks. Unless that's like a kink, like something that gay guys are really into? I don't know how you can do that dude, like stick some thing in your mouth that somebody's just peed through. Doesn't it taste funky?"

Justin's questions finally slowed down enough for him to breathe and he looked at Chris for the first time since the second quarter had begun.

Crap. The Steelers were still down, he owed himself a Jack and coke, and it looked like Justin wasn't coping quite as well with his surrogate big brother being a fruit as Justin wanted to think. Time for emergency measures.

"What's up with the third degree J? You worried that I've had a thing for you all these years?"

Chris threw himself on top of Justin and began pressing the slobberiest kisses he could muster on any part of Justin that wasn't covered by clothing or desperately flailing limbs. Chris managed a particularly wet lick to Justin's left eyebrow before being sent sprawling off the couch by an enthusiastic shove.

Chris moaned dramatically from the floor, one hand over his eyes in his best impression of a Victorian heroine strapped to train tracks, as Justin began wiping his face with his sleeve. "Oh Timberwonder, my darling, my heart, I can no longer keep my flaming passion a secret."

Justin's outraged yell as he launched himself from the sofa could have doubled as a hurricane warning. He landed heavily on Chris's stomach, and for a few seconds Chris managed to keep Justin from kneeling on his arms, getting a couple of good pokes in to Justin's ribs before he was immobilized.

"I have wanted... ow... needed your tender... ow... nubile young flesh... fuck J, you're... urk... heavy" Chris squirmed on the floor as Justin began bouncing on his chest.

"You. Are. Such. A. Shit." Justin punctuated every word with a punch to Chris' chest.

"Yup," Chris grinned up at him. "And you love me for it."

"Fuck off. I do not." One last punch to Chris' sternum and Justin toppled sideways, kicking Chris in the hip as he pushed away.

"Actually J, now I think of it." Justin looked up at Chris suspiciously as Chris scrambled to his feet, using Justin's stomach as leverage before stepping judiciously out of the reach of Justin's freakily long arms. "I'm not sure this whole thing with Britney isn't just you sublimating your inappropriate desire for my entirely hot and available bod."

The ensuing chase ended with Chris picking rose thorns out of his ass and Justin on the phone to the gardener asking for six new rose bushes - 'the ones with the petals that smell good'. Chris just hoped Britney wasn't allergic.

******

The next day was interviews and photo-shoots for Chris and Lance. By themselves. As boyfriends. Chris felt weirdly like a performing seal that'd been concealing a double identity as a killer whale. He was still balancing a ball on his nose, but the crowd was waiting for flashier tricks, or for him to bite someone's arm off.

Chris had wanted their initial interview to be with The Advocate but Madison had them doing a Barbara Walters special. She'd spent most of the morning at Chris' house coaching them in "appropriate answers", her lips almost disappearing as she frowned sternly at Chris in particular.

"Remember to emphasise that it was a slow process that started with friendship and grew after your break-up with Dani. Lance needs to be the assertive one, because Chris is so much older and we don't want any inferences about undue influence." Madison wasn't even looking at them as she gave a final plumping to the cushions on Chris' favorite couch, where the filming was to take place.

"Yeah, God forbid we break the law in more than the 17 states where sodomy is illegal, including this one." Chris wasn't even bothering to try and keep his muttering under his breath any more. Madison had been rising above his comments so much that morning that he was surprised she wasn't hovering well above the carpet.

"Lance, if you sit here, with the window behind you, the light will give you an angelic sort of halo effect. Now, if you can manage to cry when you're talking about your family it will really help with the way parents respond. Chris. Well. Sit close to Lance, but not too close. You can touch his knee if he cries, but make sure not to leave your hand there too long. Oh, and please try to make the most of the poverty in your childhood, it'll help with the sympathy vote."

*

After Madison, Barbara Walters seemed almost easy. It was almost nice not to be asked about their favorite color and who was the tidiest.

Plain sailing it wasn't. Trying to explain how Lance had replaced Dani in his life felt like someone was poking the still gaping hole in his heart where she'd been. Lance helped him out beautifully when Chris fumbled to a halt, interrupting with a cute story about how Chris never compared them, while Lance's hand petting soothingly at the back of his neck kept Chris from flying off the couch and out of the room. Chris trotted out the sob story about living in the car again. It was amazing what repetition could do to something that used to make him feel like utter shit and it meant he could rave about his mom, which never got old.

Lance didn't cry when he talked about his family, but it was a close thing and Chris had to use the hand he'd placed carefully rather more than half way up Lance's thigh to wipe away a rogue eyelash of his own as the interview came to a close. By that stage they'd both obviously charmed Barbara so completely that Chris thought even Justin would be proud.

Barbara's final words to camera - "Anyone can see the love between these two boybanders. But I shouldn't call them boys at all, their bravery in coming out makes them worthy to be called men and their fans should be proud" - had Chris vacillating between wanting to grab the nachos to catch that much cheese and feeling like he'd won a marathon. By the look of it Lance was voting for the endurance victory and it was completely easy for Chris to pick him up and twirl him around in excitement, giving the camera crew their outro shot without any prompting from Madison at all.

******

FLASH: Lance, leaning in to whisper in Chris' ear, his arm round Chris' shoulder onstage at the MTV Music Awards in the intro to Janet Jackson's tribute.

_Same sex is the way love goes for Lance Bass and Chris Kirkpatrick of *nsync. - PEOPLE P.29_

FLASH: Chris hand in hand with Lance on the red carpet at the opening of the Hard Rock Cafe in Orlando.

_Boys in love are totally hot. - TEEN PEOPLE P.12_

FLASH: Chris sitting on Lance's knee at the opening of the *nsync IMAX movie in LA.

_Apparently there weren't enough seats in the Cineplex for the stars of the show to have one each... - ROLLING STONE P.12_

FLASH: Lance crossing the finish line just before Chris at the AIDS Walk in Ft Lauderdale

_Chris Kirkpatrick and Lance Bass bring their celebrity, cash and shoe-leather to the benefit... - THE ADVOCATE P.12_

FLASH: Chris all tangled up in puppet Lance's strings at the launch of the *nsync puppets merchandise.

_Lance Bass is totally wrapped around his boyfriend's finger... - WHO WEEKLY P.26_

******

Over the next few weeks, in their meager downtime from singing and listening to Justin and JC arguing over production details for the new album, Chris and Lance did "homosexual romance of the new millennium duty" as Joey called it. They were almost busy enough that Chris could ignore the time Lance spent poring over a blue folder between takes and Madison's lectures.

Since the lawsuit Lance was always poring over folders. Normally the kind of focus Lance was giving to these folders meant that they'd all jump several rich points and Lance would gleefully inform them how much closer he was to buying his way into the space program. But several days went past and there was no smug bouncing and Lance's answers to interviewers' questions grew more and more rote.

All it took was giving Joey the pre-release copy of Final Fantasy X he'd managed to snag from Sony, and telling Justin that Joey had it, to make the them leave him and Lance alone at lunch. JC was working on a song idea "about the way sex unfolds like ecology", so Chris knew he wouldn't be bothering them.

Lance's head was already so buried in his folder when Chris perched at the other end of the overstuffed four seater couch that he didn't notice that it wasn't Joey handing him the lite chicken salad with an enormous side of fries.

"Ok Bass." Lance raised his head and quirked one eyebrow at Chris, who fluttered his eyelashes. "You've had your head stuck inside that thing for days and I've been wondering if it's naked pictures of Brad Pitt that you're hiding; and, if you are I cry no fair cause you _know_ I'd be up for looking at those. So, if it's not tasty nudes of young Bradley, then fork it over dude. Whatever it is I ain't leaving you to deal with it by yourself."

"Oh fuck you very much Chris," Lance muttered, but he handed the folder over with the minimum of noogieing, only muttering about Chris's new and inappropriate appreciation for boy porn under his breath for a minute or so.

Chris administered a final swipe across Lance's head and wrested the folder from his unresisting grasp.

"Lansten, you goober. You look like someone's told you that there's no such thing as fairies and all your dreams of twinkdom come have shattered. It can't be that bad. We're famous and rich and both of us have solos on the new album thanks to our new found notoriety."

Lance scooted back into the opposite corner of the sofa and just looked at Chris.

Chris snorted out through his nose and looked down at the folder. The Miramax logo was stamped all over the top page.

"Is this a script for your movie, Bass? What's the matter? Do your lines sound like they're out of a Harlequin or something?"

"Shut up and read," Lance mumbled.

It only took a couple of skim-read pages before Chris realized that he was looking at a breach of contract suit. Miramax was not only not making _On The Line_, they were suing Lance for making the production impossible.

"Shit, Lance. What a bunch of assholes. Why would they..." Chris stuttered to a halt. "Oh. This is because of the gay stuff, isn't it?"

"Of course it fucking is." Lance's tone was more bitter than Chris had heard it since the lawsuit. "Apparently I can't play a romantic hero if I suck cock. And because I didn't tell them about my _sexual proclivities_ when I signed up for the movie they can take me to court for the cost of pre-production."

Lance snatched the folder protectively back from Chris, who was boding fair to tear it up.

"First up, they've obviously never heard of Rock Hudson. And secondly, holy crap, Bass, that blows so fucking hard."

"Yep. Thank you for the master fucking understatement Chris. It's not like this is something I've wanted for years and it's not like it was my choice to come out and crap on any chance I've ever had to be a movie star."

Lance took a deep breath and let his eyes meet Chris'.

"But it's not that, not really. I'm going to settle the case tomorrow and my lawyer reckons it won't even dent my bank account really. It's all the other stuff. Everything else that's turning to shit and affecting me _and_ the group."

"Did you know they're burning our CDs in Alabama? I mean, I didn't even know that you could light CDs on fire, but apparently it's possible if you have a big enough bonfire. And they're boycotting stores that sell our stuff in Kentucky, and Louisiana and both Carolinas. One shop with our bobbleheads behind the counter even got its window broken."

The words were bursting out of Lance now and he was off the couch and pacing the room, the hand not clutching his folder turning his hair to something their stylist would roll her eyes at.

"And then there's the fact that one of the pastors in Clinton has preached how I'm damned for all eternity, and my mother got spit at on the street last night. Ford is losing business over this and Stacy doesn't feel safe. And the group's getting so much hate mail - only thirteen death threats so far today though, so maybe things are improving..."

Lance's voice broke on the last word and Chris rocketed towards him, trying to gather him up close.

Lance pushed him away, words staccato with emotion.

"And it's not fucking fair. It's not like my family were cool with me being a fag, but this is making them angry, not at me but at the people who want to treat me like this. I guess I didn't realize quite how much they love me and want me to be happy whatever I am."

"Shit, Bass. That's fucked up. It. Yeah. It's a crapload of shit for you right now."

Chris was groping for words in a way he totally wasn't used to.

"I mean, Diane's a cool lady and she's definitely going to stand up for you whatever happens. And it's not really much comfort, but at least now your family knows who the assholes in Clinton are. Right?"

Lance didn't say anything but his shoulders weren't heaving with quite so much emotion when Chris patted the one nearest him and drew Lance round to sit back down on the couch. Chris gathered himself and prepared to try and make Lance see a different side of things.

"The fuckwits hassling your family suck beyond the telling of it dude." Chris hesitated slightly and decided to risk it. "So it's a situation of total suckitude, but there is some good coming out of it. I don't know about you, but I haven't gotten a marriage proposal from a teenage girl in _days_, man. And I'm still getting underwear, but it's from guys now, so at least it's useful in a laundry emergency."

Lance's chuckle was still slightly damp sounding but he wasn't holding the folder to his chest with such desperation any more. Chris grinned at him in relief.

"Plus, those death threats? If you go by their spelling and grammar, they won't be able to figure out which end of a knife to use. Are you really telling me you think some wimpy letter-writer whose major personality feature is bad penmanship is going to be able to get past Lonnie and the rest of Sexual Chocolate?"

Lance shook his head, but his eyes were still dull with gloom. "It's not that I think I'm in danger, it's that there are people out there who hate me, who hate _us_ that much."

"Man, I hate to say it but people have always hated us." Chris tilted his head to one side and looked seriously at Lance. "It's just that now they hate us because they think we have sex with men, rather than because they hate our music and think we're a bunch of manufactured no-talent idiots. At least they're hating us for something that's true this time."

Lance's mouth quirked sideways at the irony. It wasn't quite a smile, but Chris would take anything he could get at the moment.

He poked Lance in the chest. "So in all your angsting over letters from fucktards have you been ignoring the other letters we've been getting?"

Lance meeped and folded around Chris' finger. He also dropped the folder. Finally.

Chris kept his tone level and carefully kept from looking at the folder languishing on the floor. "I got a letter today from a 14-year-old girl, which, y'know, not that unusual. She doesn't have me on her bedroom wall, so obviously she has terrible taste, but she does at least still have a bedroom wall. She came out to her parents two weeks ago because she was defending us against some of her friends and her mom asked why she had a black eye. She hadn't told them because she was afraid they'd kick her out. And they didn't. And now she's got family supporting her and she's being herself. Pretty cool huh?"

"Yeah," Lance nodded.

"And did I tell you about the 17-year-old guy from Tallahassee who is class president? Someone asked if he was gay because he was wearing one of our merch shirts and he just said yes. And nobody's complained or asked him to stand down or anything."

Chris poked Lance again, but more gently this time. Lance was still nodding and there was a spark at the back of his eyes again.

"I've got like fifty more of those stories, Bass, and those are just the letters to me. We're creating this huge uprising of queer self expression and it's probably the coolest thing I've ever done, so don't go bringing me down by stressing about the morons and haters, ok?"

"Ok." Lance smiled at him, and Chris took the opportunity to kick the folder under the couch. "It's pretty cool Chris. Got any more of the feel good stuff for me? You've been keeping a pretty close eye out for it, huh? You liking being a role model now? If you're not careful I'll start thinking that you're a pretty special guy, and not just in a bus school way."

"Shuddup, Bass. Stop being such a sap and come out with me tonight," Chris was getting the feeling that if he tried to make Lance feel any better about stuff that Lance would just start milking things for the pleasure of hearing Chris struggle to be serious, and that had to stop, or he'd get a reputation as a total wimp.

"What d'ya say after that benefit tonight we ditch the PR assholes and hang out at a real gay club, with action in the bathrooms and terrible music that you can shake your cute ass to? We'll get to be glamorous and you can wear something that out camps both C and Liberace. And all the pretty boys will flirt with you, and you'll be totally able to check out their packages without worrying that some one's going to out you for fudge-packing. What d'ya say?"

Lance grinned at him. "I'd say that Pulse is as all American as apple pie and full of enough fruit to fulfil even _your_ sugar cravings. Let's do it."

Chris watched Lance saunter out of the room satisfied. Bass had his groove back a little; his work was done.

******

There were so many hot young things at the AIDS benefit after party that just watching them have a good time was making Chris feel like he'd eaten an entire box of twinkies.

He and Lance had arrived to paparazzi flashes and catcalls for them to smile, hold hands and clap shoulders. Obeying hadn't actually been a chore, but only because of the pithy remarks Lance kept whispering in his ear as they fulfilled yet another photographer's need for family friendly footage.

"Do you think we could make him come if I stick my tongue down your throat in front of his camera?" Lance had left his arm around Chris' shoulders for several beats after the last flash went off and the low rumble of Lance's voice in his ear left Chris feeling as though there was an echo happening somewhere, just out of his hearing. He'd shrugged out from under Lance's arm with a muttered excuse and they'd wandered into the party, Chris wondering just when he'd stopped being up for that kind of shit-stirring.

Now the photographers were long gone and the gay elite of Orlando were partying so hard that the bathrooms were actually accessible for pissing in.

Chris looked down from his prime spot on the mezzanine balcony of VIP and watched Lance in his element. Lance's black shirt had a faint glint and it was easy for Chris to find him, even amongst all the other frosted blonds. Something about the way Lance moved through a crowd was instantly identifiable. Chris blamed it on the way constant choreography had enabled Lance to slink, hips shimmying around drunken gym bunnies like he'd nailed the moves to Space Cowboy. Chris was sure it wasn't the fame and fortune that had a lot of the men watching Lance's ass as he passed by. It wasn't like he could see it from this vantage point, but Chris knew the pants that Lance was wearing tonight and they were slung low enough that any guy here tonight could stretch out a finger and practically brush up against evidence of Lance's not entirely natural blondness.

He took another large swallow and finished his beer looking down at the dancefloor and his 'boyfriend'. It was definitely time for the spirits part of the evening to commence. Maybe then he'd be up for dancing with Lance for a couple of tracks before clambering into their limo and heading back to their individual homes.

Yep. Lance was still an absolute pro at scoping which tall Nordic god would blow him without publicity. If Chris hadn't been watching so closely over the last few weeks he'd never have realized how Lance got exactly who he wanted. Every time.

It was the small glances towards VIP that were the giveaway. One before Lance moved in to talk to his chosen guy. One just after he'd made the first laughing touch to the guy's arm. And then the final tell after Lance moved away from his chosen score, his gaze always flickering to where Chris stood. Chris had accidentally met Lance's eye on a couple of occasions at that point and he wasn't quite sure what he'd seen there.

Yep. Definitely time for vodka. Then dutiful dancing. Then bed. Alone. Again.

******

Justin's bleated and bleary "Hello motherfucker. It's fucking 3am," was even more goatlike than usual over Chris' cell. They were supposed to be having a weekend off to finish writing various tracks for the new album separately, but it was basically just an excuse for Justin to have his picture taken with Britney again. Apparently their publicity machine wanted to remind the world that at least _some_ of *nsync was straight.

"So we're sitting there, checking out guys' asses together, and he's making fun of me, saying no way was I in the slightest bit queer because I had terrible taste in men and the only ones I was checking out looked like girls. And lesbian girls at that." Chris huffed down the phone as Justin murmured something indecipherable at Britney, the rustle of bedclothes giving way to a more hollow echo.

"Ok man. I'm in the bathroom now." Justin's voice was sleepy. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Bass," Chris totally wasn't whining. He just had a slight cold. "He's gone all peculiar and heterosexist. Just because I like a little more of a handful in the butt department doesn't mean I don't also like dick you know?"

Justin's sigh would have caused Chris' phone to cut out if it had been any less state of the art.

"Look. Chris. Honestly? You're lonely, dude. You keep going to these set up things with Lance and then last week you start moaning about how he's finally picked up and gone off with some ultra discreet guy that looks like a blond Ben Affleck. And you haven't had sex since Dani, and it's not natural."

Chris scowled at his phone. "Fuck off J. Just because you and Brit are all bedazzled denim perfection and couldn't be happier doesn't mean that you know anything about love."

Justin yawned at him down the line. "Chris. Man. I know you're all cut up about Dani, but it's been more than four months dude. And you hadn't spent any time with her except for business since way before I was bothering to tell people I was a virgin."

"I'm completely over Dani, you fucker," Chris was trying really hard not to whine but Justin's concentration on his lack of a sex life was getting old. "I can get laid any time I feel like it. I just get pissed off at Bass treating me like he's a better gay man than I am."

"Dude. He **is** a better gay man than you are. You're bi. Remember? You're bi and you need to get laid. And I need to fuckin' sleep or go get laid so I'm hanging up now. K?"

"Ok you little shit. Give Brit a sloppy one for me." Chris cut Justin's fake howl of outrage off and stuffed the phone in his back pocket. Couple of games of Final Fantasy and hopefully he could stop thinking about how horny he was and why he didn't just go out and get his rocks off with some groupie. Of either sex.

******

It was bizarre to be almost enjoying hell-week, but the break from constant publicity was nice. Chris loved being out and queer and all, but really. If he had to see another drag queen lip sync to _Baby One More Time_ one more time? Well. It could get ugly. Chris was pretty sure Justin wouldn't approve of him taking a hit out on Britney, and blowing up Jive was likely to negatively impact on the group just a little too much.

"I mean I love Bass and all that but all this fake kissing isn't good for a guy. It's making me feel all weird." Chris was lying flat on his back on one of the travelators as it went back and forth, watching JC jump on and off the upstage conveyer belt in the heeled boots he wanted to wear for the show. He wondered idly if wardrobe was really worried about C skidding or more concerned about how the pale blue cowboy boots with the pink inserts would clash with JC's costumes.

"Well it's an odd situation that you and Lance are in right now." JC jumped back onto the moving belt. "It's like you're at this great restaurant and you've ordered this juicy steak and instead of being able to take a big luscious bite out of it, you just get to lick it a little bit before it's taken away." JC slipped slightly as he leapt off the travelator. "Fuck. I wonder if having these re-soled would help?" He sat down and pulled off one boot, stroking the bottom of it with curious fingers before looking up as Chris scrolled past again.

"C, the only thing in the world that could help those boots is a bucket of black paint and a garbage compactor." Chris rolled off the travelator as the boot came flying at his head, bouncing off the stage and flying out into the audience pit.

JC thumped down next to him as Chris pillowed his head in his forearms.

"Let he who is not wearing a gold lame hat cast the first stone." JC's tone was pointed as he pulled the other boot off and sent it soaring after its twin. "And Lance is finding it just as strange. He says you're totally cramping his style and for someone not so much into boys you're weirdly aware of which guys are hitting on him."

"I'm weirdly aware of him?" Chris' voice echoed around the empty stadium, incredulity bouncing back from the nosebleed seats. "He's the one who's constantly looking to see if I've noticed what he's doing. It's freaking me out."

"Oh." JC was looking down at Chris and the odd significance in his voice was reflected in his eyes. Chris rolled back onto the still moving conveyor belt and let it sail out of view. Unfortunately, the way the damn thing was set up meant JC and his eyes sailed right back into view eleven seconds later.

Chris didn't look over towards JC as he flowed past him, "There's no 'oh'. There's a total lack of 'oh' involved. It's like there's only four vowels in the alphabet worth of lack of 'oh'. And I'm totally into guys. I'm just very discerning. And discreet. And. Fuck. If I say demure you're going to laugh so hard you'll pull something, so I just won't. Even though I am. Totally. Demure. When it comes to guys."

The honk of laughter from upstage brought Chris' stammering to a halt and he looked up at his convulsing band-mate with reluctance. JC's eyes had completely disappeared in crinkles of amusement, so at least Chris could ignore whatever had been in them before.

Oh, it was past time to administer a throw down. Chris rolled back off the moving belt, flowing to his feet in a way that made his knees twinge. Chris ignored the ache in much the same way that he was ignoring any inferences JC might be making. He looked down at the still snorting JC and took off his maligned hat. "You're going down Chasez, and I don't mean in a good way."

The resulting fracas left Chris in so much trouble with wardrobe that he was guilted into wearing a jacket that actually _matched_ his bucket hat for _Celebrity_. Those wardrobe girls really knew how to punish a guy.

He would have thought that JC had gotten away with it unscathed, but then Lance sidled up to him three days later and pointed out exactly _how_ tight in the crotch JC's pants were and how uncomfortably little room to move there was. Chris blamed the awareness of what his own groin was doing while Lance was whispering in his ear on empathy for JC. Poor bastard.

******

The Pop Odyssey Tour was enormous. It wasn't just the 90-odd trucks and the stage so big it made the Sexual Chocolate guys' usual cardio workout unnecessary, but the huge number of fans both inside and outside the stadiums. Lance reckoned that they had maybe 20 percent more men than ever before. It meant there was now one guy for every thirty teenage girls, but every single one of them appeared to have a sign. An almost invariably pink sign. With sparkly hearts. And political messages. It made Chris rampantly gleeful.

It wasn't just the gay boys bringing the support though. Chris' favourites were the mildly militant "Bisexuals In Kirkpatrick's Eye" club that popped up everywhere they went. He even wore a B.I.K.E. tee at one of the meet and greets. Mostly because it pissed Justin off.

"Calling yourself that totally mocks your sexuality dude, you can't reclaim something so derogatory."

Chris had just grinned and told Justin that if he wasn't careful he'd wear the 'Fag' wifebeater Lance had left on his bunk the previous night.

******

A week or so into the tour Joey got in the limo with Chris. As they drove to their hotel Chris picked at the scabs on his grazed elbows. He was getting entirely sick of being stuck to a wall by a beautiful woman. And he _never_ imagined he'd be thinking that. "Damn Bass to everlasting karaoke versions of Barry Manilow hits for the _Up Against the Wall_ staging. Velcro burns suck"

Joey punched him in the thigh. "The Velcro idea was all yours you bastard, Lance just added the tramps." Joey looked at Chris seriously in the way that meant a special Joey lecture involving food metaphors and a head thwapping was imminent. "And what's with blaming Lance for everything anyway? You noogied him until he admitted poisoning your sandwich today because it had too much pickle in it. And yesterday you tackled him to the floor to get him to apologise because the travelator caught your shoelace at sound-check and made you fall over. Is this your version of pulling his pigtails or are you pissed off with him in some way?"

Chris looked at Joey. "You're nuttier than a snickers bar Fatone. Bass doesn't have pigtails. Are you falling for that stereotype about all gay men doing drag? Because he certainly didn't manage to pull it off in _You Drive Me Crazy_ and he was far more girly then." Chris ducked, but Joey's hand still managed to connect with the back of his head. Damn, you lived with someone for four years and they knew all your moves.

"Chris." Joey's voice was doing that serious thing where he dropped into his lower register and really sounded like a father. "Are you jerking Lance around? Cos that's totally not fair, he's finally out and he can't find somebody to date because the entire world thinks he's got you. And for some shit-for-brains reason he keeps saying he doesn't want a real boyfriend right now. You're going to have to do something about it some time. Because it's not fair on Lance. At all."

Chris looked out of the window. New Jersey sure was nice this time of year.

******

With the tour underway and the album about to drop, the media focus had faded slightly from its close up on Chris and Lance's relationship. Chris could barely remember the last 'date' he and Lance had been on, and all their interviews involved the whole group together. Along with the queries about Britney and Joey's leg, there were always questions about what it was like to date your bandmate (Joey had talked Chris out of retorting to that one with "I don't have to go as far for a blowjob now"), and how their families and fans were coping with their 'new lifestyles' (Lance had talked Chris out of using queer theory to correct every single interviewer who used the word homosexual), but most hosts had a firm eye on their advertisers and didn't rock the boat. By the time they reached New York and the multitude of talk shows, they were all totally in the groove, pat answers tumbling with cookie cutter precision from their lips.

Rosie was the sixth interview of the day. Two commercial breaks in and Rosie was in the audience trying to calm down young women so excited they could have been used as sheepdog whistles. They came back from commercial with an overwhelmed teen in a homemade green shirt with Joey's face on the back asking about his Superman collection.

The next girl was supposed to ask Lance about managing other music artists. She bounced up and grabbed the mike from Rosie's hand.

"So Lance, I've had a crush on you for the last two years and I was so totally bummed when I heard you were gay." Chris filled in the rest of the question in his head, this was the one where Lance had to reassure the girl that he still appreciated women and found them attractive, he just loved men, and Chris more. Chris had possibly filled in too many of the blanks because the next thing he knew the audience was clapping and stomping, yelling 'Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss."

Next thing he knew JC was pushing him off the sofa and up against Lance, who was standing there looking what would appear to the assembled audience as charmingly flustered. Chris knew that the flustered look came from Lance stopping himself rolling his eyes. This was going to amp Rosie's ratings sky high, and probably send their conservative advertisers sprinting for cover. Cool. One more notch in the belt of redneck baiting and one more lecture from Madison about exactly how long they should time 'their intimacy' for when this occurred.

Lance looked down at Chris, green eyes crossing even more than usual as his face moved closer. Chris closed his and lowered his lashes. It was only polite, and it looked much better on screen. He could hear the crowd's raucous shrieking hit a frenzy as their lips touched and Lance's arms came around his waist.

This was the twelfth time they'd kissed for the cameras. It hadn't happened for a while because the frenetic pace of touring didn't lend itself to staged photo opportunities. So for the first second or two Chris' brain was occupied with reminding him that stubble was prickly and that Lance's lips were remarkably soft. Then Lance's mouth gentled even more and opened slightly. Chris felt a faint flicker of tongue against his bottom lip. His faint gasp of surprise meant Lance's tongue gained a little more entry and Chris tightened his grip on Lance in shock, bringing their bodies flush into each other.

Whoa.

Chris kissed Lance back for a grand total of four seconds before his sanity reasserted itself. Or rather, Lance's sanity reasserted itself as he stepped back away from Chris, giving Chris' ass a friendly pat as he turned and said something polite and sweet to the girl. Chris blinked. Then turned and grinned at the audience, face back in media mode as he sat back down on the couch. JC poked him in the side as the next teenie asked Justin about his favorite dance move. When Chris turned to look at JC the significant look was back and Chris' stomach lurched in awareness. Yep. It was significant all right. Fucking Chasez.

******

Two weeks of solidly blaming his every stomach twinge on bad food had Chris convinced that his band-mates were out to poison him.

That was completely why he was avoiding them. All of them. There certainly wasn't one of them who he was avoiding more than any of the others.

Luckily, whatever the rest of the group were dosing him with seemed to calm down with the judicious application of Bourbon. It'd been a few years since he'd partied on every night of a tour but Chris told himself it was medically necessary. His health was totally being compromised by sobriety.

The welfare of his belly was being assuaged nicely by the lovely barman at this particular nightclub. And the wall to wall gorgeous young things, shaking everything they had to every beat there was, were helping too. He was definitely almost totally sure they were. Chris tried to think lascivious thoughts about some of the nubile flesh surrounding him. Maybe it would be a good night to break his sex drought. Not that it was a drought exactly. More of a long term lack of liquid input.

He was just beginning to manage a nice little fantasy about the fair haired guy with hips snakier than Justin's when Lance's face intruded. Chris was getting so used to forcibly ejecting Lance's face from his fantasies that it took him a couple of seconds to realize that Lance wasn't actually inside his head but had just walked past, following a compact dark haired man into the nearby bathrooms.

Oh shit. Bass had given up on the subtlety and was about to cheat on Chris in a public restroom with some guy who probably hadn't even signed a non-disclosure contract. Well, to the world it would be cheating. To Lance it was probably just... Well. It probably wasn't anything that would cause Lance to think about Chris at all.

Chris sighed. Now he'd have to sneak out of the club without anyone noticing him and his sex life would continue to be a desert with occasional Lance-like mirages which he would continue to ignore. He gulped the rest of his Jack on ice and put the glass down on the bar. He'd come without a jacket so there was absolutely no reason not to just leave. Without passing the rest-rooms. Where Lance was probably on his knees in one of the stalls, fingers clamped around jean-clad thighs, mouth open and debauched, looking up with mischief, want and appreciation in his green eyes, tongue sneaking forward to lick delicately, and with a low growl of need rumbling in the back of his throat.

Chris had spent a lot of time over the last couple of weeks carefully erasing every fantasy he had that ended up like that and he totally didn't need to see it in the flesh. Not aimed at somebody else.

This made it very odd that Chris found himself, seconds later, in the men's bathroom, hammering on the door of the closed stall in a way guaranteed to draw publicity that would send Madison spinning faster than a tumble-drier on acid.

"Hey." Chris pounded on the door with both fists, trying not to think about how much he looked like a frustrated toddler. "Hey." Jesus, it wasn't like he could yell Lance's name or anything. "Fuck, let me in."

"Fuck off," came an unfamiliar, slightly muffled voice, shortly before the door of the stall came flying open and the dark haired guy Lance had been following into the restroom landed on his back on the white tiles at Chris' feet. Chris barely spared him a look because Lance was leaning back against the cubicle wall, one hand in his rumpled hair and the other hand clenching in pulses on his thigh. Right next to his cock. Which was hard. And big. And slightly wet from the stranger's mouth.

Chris prided himself on his imagination and he was pretty sure as a bisexual guy surrounded by groupies he was off the chart on the purity test. But none of his fantasies had prepared him for exactly how mouth-watering an aroused Lance was.

Of course his fantasies hadn't quite involved Lance looking at him with a stare harder than diamonds. Or exactly how brutal Lance's eyes could look without actually cutting him to pieces.

The guy at Chris' feet was picking himself up and asking Lance what the hell he was thinking opening the door to "an asshole like this guy". Chris had little difficulty recognizing himself from this description. He was, however, having an immense amount of difficulty tearing his eyes away from Lance. His gaze would flick down at Lance's groin, where Lance's dick appeared to be unfazed by the tension of the situation and then back up to Lance's eyes, which plainly showed that Lance was ready to disembowel Chris for his role in the current clusterfuck. Possibly with a spoon. And that would drive Chris' stare back to Lance's crotch again, where Lance was completely not even trying to tuck his hard cock back into his pants.

The dark haired man was standing now and muttering something about jealous boyfriends.

"Yeah. Sorry." The tone of Lance's voice could have stopped polar icecaps from melting and he never once looked at his pick up. "But I'm not in the mood for a threesome and I think someone more interesting just came up."

The hook up stormed off sneering, and slammed the door to the empty restroom behind him. Chris barely noticed the racket as Lance slowly lifted his hand from his thigh and pointed one finger straight at Chris. And beckoned.

"Chris." The way Lance's voice was dripping something venomous and deadly should have kept Chris well away. But Lance was a sun going supernova and Chris was being sucked in.

He took one step forward. Lance smiled and licked his bottom lip.

"Finally doing what you're told, hey Chris?"

Chris was completely sure he didn't like the smugness in Lance's voice. But there didn't seem to be any escape from the gravitational pull Lance was exuding. Chris' eyes flicked down and away from Lance's smile briefly. Yep. Still hard. Still slightly wet. Still completely impossible to resist. Chris closed his eyes, but it didn't help. He could still see Lance behind his eyelids. The hairs on the back of Chris' neck sprang to attention as Lance's low chuckle drew his eyes open again.

Lance's smile got wider and his voice was all control. "Come here." And he beckoned again, a slow crook of his finger at chin height. And then did it again, except this time his finger ended up right at the corner of his lips. And then Lance opened his mouth slightly, still smiling, and the tip of his tongue glistened out and wet the tip of the beckoning finger.

Chris wavered where he stood. Somewhere inside Chris knew it was kind of rude to be unable to drag your eyes away from someone's crotch, but good manners be damned. This was the first time he'd seen Lance's cock in this state and it was swiftly becoming his very favorite sight, up there with a Steelers' touchdown and the sunset over Cocoa Beach. So he wasn't quite sure if his knees were going to hold out for this. Whatever this was.

"Um," Chris was sure there were words inside him somewhere, but finding them was proving almost as impossible as resisting taking another step towards Lance. Another step and he'd be through the open door of the cubicle and within arms' reach. "Lance?"

And then the rest of whatever sentence Chris was about to say gave up the ghost as Lance sucked the finger he'd been beckoning with into his mouth, bit down lightly and then drew it out slowly. He was still smiling and the glint in his eyes could have powered most of Orlando.

Chris was practically vibrating with the willpower necessary to keep himself on his feet and his mouth off Lance's dick.

Though.

Wait a second.

Why the hell _ wasn't_ he on his knees with Lance's dick in his mouth? He'd been thinking about it for months. Well, weeks. Ok, for at least the last minute and a half it'd been _all_ he could think about.

And then Lance looked at him through slightly lowered lashes, slid his hand down his body to rest at the cut muscle between his hip and groin, ran his tongue along his bottom lip and said, "Please?"

Lance's voice was sharp enough to cut both steel and Chris' final inhibitions, and Chris was on his knees impossibly fast, breathing in deeply before looking up at Lance's smile, his real smile, not a crocodile tooth in sight. It drew an answering grin from Chris, because not only did Lance smell incredible, but he was _Lance_. And, even through his anticipation and lust, Chris couldn't stop himself.

"Please? You're all toppy and commanding, and then you go all refined southern gentleman when you want someone to blow you?"

Lance's body began to shake with laughter. So did his dick. Chris looked at the jiggling cock and then up at Lance's face, which was crumpled in giggles. It made Lance look even sexier and much less threatening, so it was easy for Chris to reach out and gently hold Lance's dick loosely in his hand. It jumped slightly and moved within Chris' palm as Lance's laughter moved his body in short jerks sending his cock thrusting into Chris' fist.

"Oh fuck," Lance's voice was breathless, his laughter fading as Chris tightened his grip slightly and began to pump.

Chris thought about saying something about cussing and Lance's momma but Lance's hips jerked forward and Chris gave up any thoughts of teasing Lance verbally as he finally let himself bury his nose into the crease between Lance's thigh and groin. Surprisingly soft mousy blonde hair brushed Chris' lips as he inhaled Lance's scent. Chris nibbled kisses towards where his hand was wrapped around Lance's cock.

Lance gasped something wordless and his hand left his thigh, coming to rest on Chris' head, tension filling his fingers as they ghosted over Chris' spikes. He thrust forward harder into Chris' fist and Chris used his free hand to push Lance back against the cubicle wall. Lance groaned as Chris tightened his grip slightly, Lance's cock sliding smoothly in his fist.

Chris was breathing almost as heavily as Lance, knees aching on the cold tile but he was past caring as he let Lance's dick slip from his grasp, both hands coming to rest at Lance's hips and keeping him trapped against the white enamel. Lance's cock was directly in line with Chris' chin, his hand tightening convulsively in Chris' hair as Chris breathed on the head, tongue flicking out to taste the bead of liquid at the tip. Fuck. So that was what pre-come tasted like. Like Lance smelled, like Chris' own desperation to finally have this, to have Lance come undone in front of him.

"Jesus, Chris," Lance's voice was so deep Chris felt the rumble in his fingers, flexing against Lance's pale skin. "Fuck." The hand on Chris' head caressed down his cheek and came to rest at his chin, thumb rubbing against Chris' lips. "Not here. You mean more..." Chris tried to ignore the sense of what Lance was saying, sucking Lance's thumb into his mouth and teasing at the tip with his tongue.

Lance's legs shook as he swore under his breath and pulled his thumb slowly out of Chris' mouth. Chris whimpered slightly as Lance pushed Chris' hands away from his hips so he could slide down the wall to sit in front of Chris, Lance's legs either side of Chris' knees. Chris could see the whitened finger marks on Lance's hips, the way Lance's pelvis tilted involuntarily towards Chris as he looked down at Lance's dick, licking his lips as he watched it, heavy and stiff between Lance's legs.

"Shit. Chris..." Lance was panting, his face flushed and eyes heavy-lidded as he looked up at Chris. And then he was reaching up, hand incredibly warm at the nape of Chris' neck as he drew Chris down to his mouth.

The twelve kisses they'd staged had in no way prepared Chris for exactly what _really_ kissing Lance would be like. It was parts of him he'd always ignored were coming alive. Lance's lips were wet and soft, but his tongue in Chris' mouth was strong. His hand tangled in Chris' hair bringing them even closer together, their breath mingling, tongues tangling and teeth coming into play. Chris knew he was whimpering high in the back of his throat, rocking forward towards Lance as they kissed. Lance groaned at the back of his throat and Chris slipped further into his mouth, tongue delving deep and hands grasping at Lance's sides to bring him closer in to Chris' body.

"God. Yes. Fuck." Chris had no control over his voice, capable only of single syllables as Lance's free hand suddenly slid against Chris' cock. Chris had almost forgotten exactly how hard he'd been since Lance had first beckoned to him, but the deft pressing of Lance's palm through Chris' jeans refocused his attention on exactly how insistent his erection was. Gasping Lance's name, Chris raised one knee up and over Lance's thigh and sank back down so that he could thrust into Lance's hand while continuing to kiss him.

Chris' hands were snarled in Lance's hair and he changed the angle of their kiss so he was better able to suck Lance's tongue deep into his mouth, mimicking the movements of Lance's hand on his cock. Then Lance twisted his fingers somehow and Chris had to pull back from the kiss and bite his own lip hard to keep from coming in his jeans.

Lance was panting something and Chris bent to nip at his jawline, tongue rasping over stubble as Lance gasped "Chris. _God_." Chris bit down on the big muscle in Lance's neck and moved his right hand back down to Lance's dick. Lance's stuttered "Oh fuck. Fucking wanted you forever," was muffled through Chris' shirt as Lance bent his head to lick a stripe from the open neck of Chris' shirt to his chin.

Chris was sure the slightly strangled noise he could hear dimly in the background was coming from his heart, which appeared to be trying to leap out of his chest. In any case the noise was hard to hear over Lance's low moans, every one of which seemed directly hardwired to Chris' cock. Lance was trying to get Chris' fly undone one-handed and the slightly fumbling friction against his dick was sending Chris closer and closer to the edge and making his breath stutter into Lance's mouth.

And then a flash went off. Chris almost bit Lance's tongue and Lance's hand pushed Chris' zipper uncomfortably hard against his cock. Chris looked at Lance. The pupils of the green eyes looking back were still blown with desire, but there was a rising tide of horror and embarrassment that Chris could feel suffusing his own face.

"Fuck." Their voices panted the epithet almost in unison.

The speed of what happened in the next ten seconds made Chris feel a little like he was living under a strobe light. Lance pulled his hand back from Chris' fly and tucked his own dick back into his pants, Chris got himself off the floor and Lance's lap with some kind of move he knew he'd never be able to repeat. Lance was inches behind him, his hand slightly sweaty at the small of Chris' back. Chris stepped out of the toilet cubicle, Lance moving forward to join him at his side and they faced the young dirty blond guy with the digital camera together.

The three of them stood there for a few moments.

The guy with the camera was in his early twenties and looked and sounded like he was about to bolt out of the bathroom. "Shit. I'm just gonna get out of here..."

Lance gathered himself first. Professionally smooth, business mask slipping into place below his tousled hair. "Hi. Are you a fan?" He started moving towards the guy, eyes carefully on his face and never on the camera in the man's hand.

The guy shook his head and started backing towards the exit. "Nah. Um. See you guys later..."

Chris was just about to use the adrenaline pounding through his body to grab the guy and try and wrest the camera from him, when the door opened and a mountain in a black t-shirt entered. One large hand descended to grab the camera, the other grasped the man's arm, preventing him from leaving. The bulk of the bodyguard's torso was against the door, blocking anyone else from entering.

"You two lovebirds up to mischief again?" Lonnie's amused rumble was the best thing Chris had ever heard in a bathroom. And that included them practicing.

Lance moved forward and took the camera out of Lonnie's fingers. "We'll be good, once we've got the picture this shithead took off his camera."

The guy struggled a little in Lonnie's grip, but he obviously wasn't stupid enough to take on a member of Sexual Chocolate four times his body mass.

Lance flicked through the images on the camera quickly, looking over at Chris with a half rueful, half impressed smirk. "He definitely captured your good side. It's almost a shame to delete it."

The beep of the erase button twanged back at them from the tiled walls. Lance handed the camera back to the guy, who grabbed it quickly as Lonnie let him go, shoving his way past the bodyguard out of the door. As the door closed behind him the beat of the nightclub faded back down to a fast heartbeat.

Lance looked up at the ceiling and then at the wall just to the right of Chris' head, the heat rising back into his cheeks. "Well, you wanted to out-gay Liberace and shock the teenies. I think this'll probably do it. Fuck."

Chris' shoulders slumped. "Shit. We're so entirely fucked."

Lonnie was still blocking the bathroom door with his body, but he was shaking his head. "Nah. It's romantic isn't it? Couple of lovers, desperate and stupid, can't keep their hands off each other. It's a nice story." He raised an eyebrow. "It's not like you're not in love or anything. So it's cool. Yeah?"

Chris looked at Lance. The flush on Lance's face had faded somewhat, but Lonnie's comments had pinked his cheeks right up again and he wouldn't meet Chris' eyes. Crap. The earth was still spinning and Chris was going to have to be the mature one in this relationship.

Chris took Lance's hand in his and gave it a squeeze. Fuck it. They could handle Madison and the press later. He looked over at Lance and grinned at how surprisingly easy this was going to be. "Yeah. Being in love makes it cool Lonnie. Totally cool."

******

FLASH: Picture of the bathroom door with "too rude" plastered across it.

_ No, it's wasn't a gun in his pocket - Lance Bass sure was pleased to see Chris Kirkpatrick in this restroom - NATIONAL ENQUIRER P.17_

FLASH: Chris and Lance leaving the restroom, hand in hand.

_Boybanders swap 'handy' hints in bathroom - WHO WEEKLY P.8_

FLASH: Lance kissing Chris in the limo leaving the club.

_Apparently true love can't wait for a bedroom, or even a limo; but with boys this cute, who cares? - J14 P.3_

FLASH: Chris and Lance hand in hand at a gay marriage protest.

_Celebrity couple Lance Bass and Chris Kirkpatrick spent their second anniversary at a right to marry march in Orlando - THE ADVOCATE P.6_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the utterly invaluable lesasoja who got me unstuck when I was nothing but chewing gum; woolly_socks who is the world's best non-pop fan beta; turps33 for wonderful cheerleading over the last five(!) months; and to sola_fiamma - this is for you hon.


End file.
